Esteban and I didn’t always see eye to eye, though it pained me to say that lately it felt like he was the only friend I had. There was always Juanito, who was in his early twenties and an eager narco, but I think the boy was scared of me, which I found funny considering we both had to be around the same age. And Javier’s chief of security, a big brute of a man named Diego, was as quiet as they came. This was a shame because he was a smart man with a colorful past, and I was certain he had a million stories to tell.
Esteban, however, wasn’t quiet and wasn’t scared, and was there for me more often than not. Usually I found it annoying, how closely he tried to emulate Javier, how badly he wanted to be him. He’d tell you otherwise, of course, but Esteban was power hungry, bloodthirsty, and jealous beyond comprehension. He wasn’t very smart, though. His lackadaisical surfer approach to life wasn’t just an act, and no matter how badly he wanted to be in Javier’s shoes, he could never, ever become him.
Naturally, I also knew I shouldn’t underestimate people, and so with him I practiced more of a keep your friends close, enemies closer sort of relationship. While he could never become the patron, the ruler, the king, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t at some point try.
“I worry about you,” he said, crouching down to my level.
I rolled my eyes. “Please.”
He looked at the wine bottle. “I know things aren’t … well, I know how things are.”
I tucked the bottle on the other side of the bucket and gave him a pointed look. His green eyes were observing me a little too carefully, something I found off-putting.
“And what could you know?”
He rubbed his hand across his chin, seeming to think. “Well, I know Javier is uh … well, occupied most nights. I know where he goes and what he does.”
A knife sliced right into my heart. I tried to keep a blank face, a mask. Don’t let the mask slip, I told myself, and took in a quiet breath.
“Oh, is that right?” I asked, and winced once I heard the tremor in my voice.
His gaze softened and I hated the fucking sympathy I could see. Of all people, I didn’t want it from him. I didn’t want him to feel that he was any better than Javier or any better than me. Yes, I knew, damn it I fucking knew what Javier was doing with those girls, and I knew what happened to the girls after, too. I knew everything, but I wasn’t about to let him feel that made him better than us. Javier, for everything that had happened, for the person he’d become, was still my husband.
God, even the word husband pinched deep inside.
“Javier isn’t well,” I told him before he could say anything else.
He actually laughed. “Not well? That’s the understatement of the year.”
“It isn’t funny,” I said quietly.
“No?” He placed one hand on my thigh, peering at me closely. I sucked in my breath. “Then let’s not skirt around it. Javier has been compromised. He’s damaged in a way that is only going to hurt the business. It’s only going to hurt you.”
I tried to shrug away from him but his grip on my leg tightened.
“Don’t pretend anymore, Luisa,” he said in a hush. “You know the truth. Alana’s death … he couldn’t handle it. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He’s lost nearly all his sisters. His whole family. A man can look strong, but that doesn’t make him strong. Perhaps some might find it sentimental that he cares so much about his family after all, but powerful people can’t afford to be sentimental. He can’t afford to lose himself like this.” He shook his head. “No, it’s been long enough.”
Now I felt I had to come to his defense, something I was used to doing, even in my own head, even against myself. “It’s been five months since Alana died,” I told him. “People need time to grieve. He’s grieving in his own way. He will move on.”
“Luisa …”
I suddenly got up, feeling emboldened by the wine, and shoved Este away. “No!” I yelled. “He will move on. I won’t give up on him, no matter what he’s doing. He’ll find his way back to me.”
“Will he find his way back to this?” Esteban spread out his arms, gesturing to the property. In the distance a few white parrots flew from the trees.
“He’s doing fine,” I told him, bringing my voice down. I jerked my head toward the place I liked to call the “torture hut.” “What was going on in there? Did he not just weed out an informant? Last week, did he not order that safe house to be blown up? Lado’s shipment to be destroyed? He’s doing everything he needs to do to protect us, everything. We’ve never been stronger.”
“He’s being careless,” he said imploringly, taking a step toward me.
“How so?”
He paused, eyes bright. “I guess he didn’t tell you.”
I swallowed thickly. “What?”
“We might have to move, temporarily.”
I blinked at him, not comprehending a word of this. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Esteban licked his lips before taking in a deep breath. “I think Javier should be the one to tell you. It’s not my place.”
Since when did Esteban ever care if it was his place or not? He was constantly handing out his unwanted opinion.